


Broken Chrysalis, Broken Prism

by SC182



Category: Smallville
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>he wishes that maybe, just maybe, if they were different people or didn’t have this sordid history between them that they could go back to being Lex and Clark</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Chrysalis, Broken Prism

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : AU after "Nemesis"
> 
> **A/N** : Thank you so much to twinsarein for the speedy beta! I really appreciate it. Write back in Summer '08 and taken down due to lots of mistakes. Written for the absolute Lex Genderbender challenge in 2008.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Clark Kent, Lex Luthor and the rest of Smallville characters are the property of their creators, the CW and Warner Brothers. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.

He’s thinking about how this is so screwed up. How far he and Lex are from each other. Maybe it’s the meteor rock or the cave, his thinking isn’t quite that clear. As Clark watches Lex's back get smaller and narrower in front of him, he wishes that maybe, just maybe, if they were different people or didn’t have this sordid history between them that they could go back to being Lex and Clark.

Friends.  
  
Brothers.  
  
Allies.  
  
And something else that he’s sure there isn’t a word to explain. He’s ready to call out. ‘Lex’ is poised on the tip of his tongue. His words are stolen just as surely as he stumbles upon a cache of meteor rocks.  
  
He wants to call out to Lex. Clark’s been close to death before, but never has he had so many regrets about life. Chief among them is Lex. They've both made mistakes, he simply wants to apologize for his before it’s too late. ‘Just say something to Lex’, something inside screams.  
  
Clark tries and fails as the meteor rock’s strength is greater than his and suddenly the world crashes down on him and he’s surrounded in darkness. 

* * *

  
Lex looks for any signs of light. Any point of exit will do. It’s bad enough that he’s trapped down here with a woman intent on kidnapping him and forcing him to tell the truth. Even though she’s close to the mark, he really can’t tell her that her husband willingly enlisted in the program.  
  
Already bad, the situation becomes worse when Lionel sends Clark to save him. Those days of putting their lives on the line for each other are few and far between now. The air is staid and hot, on the verge of suffocating even without Clark refusing to say something that resembles the truth when his arm and side are bleeding profusely. Even when they both look shocked, because they each know this cannot be happening, Clark refuses to admit that he’s different.  
  
The days of blaming himself for Clark’s evasiveness are long gone. He continues to walk ahead; barely mindful of Clark’s slow lumbering steps behind him. There’s a thin stream of light pouring down from above. A sliver that will be their escape route. He’s saved them for a change. The air stills as he moves closer to the light.  
  
He hears Clark’s sudden intake of breath. The kind that precedes the utterance of a name. Lex’s back stiffens. He’s so close to freedom he can almost feel the thermal energy in the light. Suddenly, the tunnel shakes and dirt and sand ran down as the tunnel buckles not far behind him. His heart races now, realizing that he’s left Clark behind, running through the dust and swatting away an errant falling rock or two, Lex stumbles for a while.  
  
Adrenaline pushes through his system as his blood turns cold. ‘This could be Clark’s tomb’.  
  
Intentions.  
  
It’s always about his intentions and he’s never actually wanted to hurt Clark. He scolds himself for leaving Clark behind and vows to get them out. He’ll do it, even if it requires moving one rock at a time.  
  
Their story is far from over and he’ll be damned if he loses Clark forever. 

  
For six days, he sits beside the bed waiting for Clark to wake up.  
  
For six days, he practically ignores his wife and his company to watch the change Clark has undergone. There’s no doubt in his mind that the meteor rocks are the chief culprit, but something tells him, Clark’s survival is mostly due to his specialness. This is the best opportunity ever afforded to him to learn Clark’s secrets.  
  
He’s sure Lana knows and even with seeing Clark in such a state, she refuses to disclose what she knows. The same with Chloe Sullivan. He will not take Clark’s secrets the easy way by simply looking under a microscope. He orders all bloodied and soiled materials to be burned. Clark’s secret will come to him from Clark’s mouth.  
  
The wait may take longer: days, months, years. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll have it eventually.  
  
It’s clear by their staunch objections that Lana and Chloe know Clark’s secret. Contrary to what they think they know, they lack the subtly to play with Luthors. They have already confirmed so much, by simply denying Lex’s desire to genuinely help. Both impede him from taking Clark anywhere, but he refuses to have Clark taken back to the farm. The Castle is their compromise. He argues that Chloe’s skewed loyalty is responsible for her friend not receiving care. When a cave collapses on one, the possibility of being fine and walking it off are greatly diminished, especially for someone who is in the condition that Clark’s injuries show him to be in.  
  
Bandages cover Clark’s face. Crisscrossing the surface. The memory hits him. Rocks flung off the living pile. Blood. Lacerations. Skin scorched and bruised. He can’t wait for the bandages to come off. TO prove again that he’s right. He waits for Clark to wake up and reveal that unmarred skin, because there isn’t a doubt in his mind that Clark will be fine.  
  
The areas of skin that are exposed to Lex’s gaze are clean and clear, healthy in their tawny hue, the opposite of nearly a week ago.  
  
So, he waits and plots.  
  
Hoping that Clark’s awakening and unveiling will be for his eyes only. He wills Clark to wake. It starts with the twitch of an arm. Fingers curling and releasing. A breathy groan.  
  
Green eyes snap open and take in the room. Lex follows their path until they’re gazing at him. The expression there is unreadable.  
  
“You’re safe. You’re in the Castle.” He says.  
  
Safe is relative to Clark, Lex thinks. Chloe, who's been Clark’s guard dog since this happened, makes a sound from the doorway. Then she’s on the bed touching Clark’s hand, trying to talk to him. “Clark,” She’s at his side. As dutiful as ever.  
  
Lana isn’t far behind, though she doesn’t make quite a show of going over, and throwing her arms around Clark. It’s obvious that she wants to; the line of tension in her body gives her away. The rock on her finger, the one he placed there, seems to hold even more sway. She’s relieved. They all are. But it’s Clark’s eyes which linger on Lex. In shock. In doubt. Confusion, perhaps?  
  
That mouth is covered. “-ff,” they can all make out.  
  
Chloe tries to hold his hands down, but fails. Lex obliges Clark, ready for all this to finally end his way.  
  
The bandages are cut through the back and the nurse checks the skin before removing them. They all see dark hair. Black curls finally free from their prison. So many…So much more.  
  
Clark revealed is…  
  
Perfect.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
A goddess.  
  
“What?” Clark croaks. The voice sounds even rougher coming out of such a visage. It’s rare that Lex is ever in awe of anyone or anything. Amused, yes. Intrigued by their brazenness or utter stupidity, always.  
  
Clark, though, manages to do it again, leave Lex breathless, and feeling entirely shaken.  
  
“What?” Clark’s voice is a croak. Dry and rusty and all the more strange with each second.  
  
That gasps that come from the mouths of Lana and Chloe are comical or not, as Clark reaches up to touch his face. It’s fine, but that doesn’t ease Clark’s quiet panic.  
  
Lex rises from his chair and approaches the bed. “You look surprisingly well for someone a cave fell on.”  
  
Chloe and Lana turn glares on him that lack any real power to back them up, though Chloe can unleash a verbal judo at will, she’s not going to do it. Her eyes scream, ‘how can you say that?’  
  
Clark is still watching him. Looking scared, but discerning. Lex waits for an answer, because he can see Clark is thinking.  
  
“Yeah.” The voice is evening out. It’s Clark, but not. Those big hands, now slender, reach up and latch onto his throat. There’s something very prominent missing.  
  
Lex’s heart is beating just a bit faster. He has no plans to get his hopes up. Yet, the way Clark’s eyes, so lovely and green, widen and look from Chloe and Lana for understanding and then back to Lex, they want the truth.  
  
‘Don’t we all’, Lex thinks.  
  
“Clark, do you feel normal?”  
  
Dark brows furrow, and Clark still looks beautiful.  
  
“Yeah, I do--” Those green eyes stretch even wider, because Clark knows something is wrong.  
  
Clark is out of the bed suddenly. The pants and t-shirt he’s wearing are way too big, though they're long enough for his new frame. The room is normally a guest room, but now it’s been temporarily converted to into a recovery ward. The bathroom is off to the side and Clark finds it easy enough with Chloe following on his heels.  
  
He hesitates before he looks into the mirror. Just a second. Then, it’s like some masterful painting. The birth of a goddess. A look of higher realization. Clark makes not a sound and simply stares, touching his face and neck and slowly down to his chest which is no longer relatively flat and broad, but full and firm beneath the voluminous shirt.  
  
Those eyes turn back to Lex. Chloe stares at Clark with eyes full of promises and eternal offers to help. This is something else. Strange and wholly different.  
  
Things progress quickly, because Clark is eventually fine in every sense of the word. Clark is whisked away by his faithful sidekick, most likely to the farm.  
  
Those eyes remain on trained on him as they exist. Clark is moving by Chloe’s will alone. “Thanks…” His voice pops. “I’ll see you around.”  
  
“You will.” Lex says to an empty doorway. 

* * *

  
Insolated in his little hemisphere of the world, Lana leaves him alone to work. He does that for about an hour and half until his thoughts divert to Clark again. It’s unspoken that Clark has a few days before Lex will seek him out. Three days to revert back and assume that he wants an explanation to go along with all the data collected while Clark healed.  
  
Though, there isn’t any.  
  
No need to tell Clark that little fact. He wants Clark to trust him, finally see that h can handle whatever it is that he’s hiding. He doesn’t want all of Clark’s secrets; just enough to know that he’s not crazy. Finally have proof and open discussion about Clark being special. That Clark is special like him.  
  
There’s no ignoring this one.  
  
The nurse responsible for caring for Clark has already been in his office and explains how something as big as a sudden gender switch can go under the radar. She counters that Clark’s condition was already in effect when she came into work that first day. She simply thought Clark was a strange name for a girl. He gladly releases her afterwards.  
  
This newest curveball is the work of the meteors. The meteors have a wicked power to grant one’s subconscious desires. They’re as much science as they are magic. Their relationship with Clark has always been strange and proof that they cause more wickedness than good. Then again, this newest development leaves him with many questions.  
  
Clark has secrets, yes. But a subconscious wish to be female is the least likely desire that Lex can ever picture Clark having.  
  
There’s a knock on the door, and Lex can make out a tall dark shadow.  
  
“Come in…”  
  
A brunette enters and his eyes immediately sweep from head to toe and back again. Even more changes have occurred since they'd last seen each other. The hard angles are soft, body more slender, but still obviously strong and full of healthy curves. The clothes Clark is wearing must have been borrowed from Lois, because they’re a little too short in the legs, yet they maintain Clark’s natural affinity for primary colors.  
  
Lex remains behind his desk and steeples his fingers as Clark remains across the room. “I didn’t think I’d see you for a while.” He motions Clark forward.  
  
“I wanted to thank you again…This time without running off.” Clark says in a voice that sounds so familiar, yet in the wrong pitch.  
  
“I wasn’t going to leave you down there. Friends don’t do that.”  
  
“We’re friends again or are you just curious?”  
  
“I want to be friends again. If we can have some honesty.”  
  
Clark considers this. “You know the meteors did this.”  
  
“I figured as much.” Lex stands from his desk and approaches Clark. “I hope you know that I’ll put forth any resources that you might need to change back.”  
  
“Thanks, but--”  
  
He gets up from the desk and moves to sit on the corner in front of Clark. Smiling that shark’s grin, he shakes his head. How things haven’t changed, even if Clark’s looks have. “You still don’t take gifts, or is it my help that you spurn?” The rebuke rolls off Lex’s tongue and watches Clark’s green eyes sparkle in hurt.  
  
“Actually,” Clark backs up, which is a deviation from usual. “I have it on…” Clark clears his throat. “I know that I’m not changing back. ..This is the new me.”  
  
Very honest. “How does that make you feel?” 

“I don’t know. I still feel like me, but different.” He—She takes a breath. “ I guess it will take some time to get used to.”  
  
Like Tiresieas, Clark is living as the other half. Hopefully, he’ll use of the experience to his benefit and not anger the gods in the process. Clark Kent with hips and breasts is a strange thought compared to memory, but sexy and gorgeous and entirely deserving of reverence by any aesthetic measure. It’s just another part of the Clark puzzle meant for him to solve.  
  
“Good luck with that.” Lex moves closer to Clark and stops only a foot or two away. “Why are you here?”  
  
Clark shoves her hand in her pockets, which now gives new emphasis to the width and curvature of those hips formerly straight and narrow. “You already said ‘thank you’.” Lex adds.  
  
“I know. I wanted to apologize. Say sorry for the thing I said in the cave and before that even.”  
  
Lex smirks. “Is this your new feminine side emerging?”  
  
“Maybe. I think my feminine side is a little more rational than my guy side.”  
  
Male or female, Clark is bewitching. He has to wonder how long before he’s betrayed again. How long until the friendship dissolves? “That’s very considerate of you.”  
  
Clark doesn’t nod or smile. She backs up and begins to turn toward the doors. “I’ll see you around.”  
  
A streak of panic flows through Lex, imploring him to make Clark stay. “I could have collected data on you. Finally found out what makes you special. I didn’t…Anything used by you was destroyed afterwards.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“Tell me I didn’t make a mistake.”  
  
“Maybe you realized that one day we will be able to trust each other. My secrets and yours will be in the open. There can’t be any going back then.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
“We just need to wait for the right time.” She quirks a brow at him. It’s the kind of expression men have used as dream fodder for years.  
  
“Then we’ll have what we want?”  
  
“Just wait, Lex…. I need time.”  
  
Clark walks out the door and, for the first time in a very long time, Lex feels something other than cold. 

* * *

  
As Lex turns down the Kent driveway, he sees the lone pickup truck and is thankful that Chloe and Lois are absent. They are very reluctant to leave Clark’s side these days. He wonders how Clark feels about that. Even now, out of sight, Clark is still very much within Lex’s thoughts. The undercurrent of tension between him and Lana is gone.  
  
As far as Lex knows, the last time Lana and Clark saw each other was the day of Clark’s visit. The surveillance in the castle captured their short and stilted meeting. Neither had been sure of what exactly to say to the other. When he focused the camera on Clark’s eyes, he hadn't seen the usual amount of softness that always bubbled up in Lana’s presence. She'd regarded Lana warmly, but it wasn't the same.  
  
There was no longer a sense of epic drama lurking beneath the surface.  
  
It seems pretty certain that the key to Lana’s attraction to Clark is his definite maleness. With that gone, Lex wonders if it’s only a matter of time before he and female-Clark are at odds over Lana. Just maybe though, if he’s lucky things can go even differently.  
  
Lana hadn't seemed as eager to enter Clark’s space then either. Lex imagined the allure of her softness and mystery was something that Clark now possesses and so no longer found her nearly as enticing as he used to. “I want us to remain friends.”  
  
Clark remained neutral and smiled. “I’d like that.”  
  
Nothing more was said and as far as Lex knows there hadn't been anymore contact.  
  
Now, Lex stops his car beside the farmhouse and walks toward the barn. There’s hammering coming from the inside and the soft stirrings of music. He’s not used to this—this silence that permeates the farm. Before, as Lex now thinks of things, Lex’s visits had come along with Martha Kent asking him if he’d like lemonade or cookies. There’d even been a word or two from Jonathan as he climbed the stairs to the loft, where Clark was working or reading diligently in his hammock or the couch. Those days are locked deep inside and Lex thinks of them without bitter reservations, but constantly wonders what could have been.  
  
These days, the farm is much more silent Sure, there are still sounds of animal life, but it’s the human life that is muted. Jonathan, the steadfast and overly righteous patriarch, is dead. Much too soon. Martha Kent, homespun homemaker, wife, and mother, is finally fulfilling her potential as a senator. A good one from what he’s heard. And Clark, the golden boy with promise, is just a bit jaded by the imperfections of himself and the world.  
  
Male or female, as Lex walks into the barn, he simply sees Clark. This is the adult the boy he once knew has become and, as he rattles around on the empty farm, Lex feels for him. Chloe and Lois are back at work, setting the world ablaze with their exploration for truth and justice.  
  
When he finally sees Clark, his mind immediately invokes glossy magazine spreads where beautiful women mimic scenes of real life. Clark’s body seems to have slimmed down a little more. Long and lean in all the right places and voluptuous in others; Clark’s form is the stuff that sonnets and bad love songs are written about. The tool belt that sits at the upper rise of his waist emphasizes those perfectly rounded hips. Clark forgoes the standard red or blue t-shirt in favor of a camisole that has seen better days. Too short, unlike the pants which were now too big on the narrow waist, Lex finds himself eager to watch.  
  
“I guess old habits die hard.” Clark puts the hammer down on the carpenter’s table. She turns to regard Lex with a warm, neutral look.  
  
“I think you’re right.” Lex walks around the table, examining what Clark has been up to as of late. “It looks like you’ve settled back into normal life around the farm.”  
  
Clark undoes the tool belt and lays it on the table. “Do you want to go into the house?”  
  
There’s no particular reason for them actually leave the barn, save for the slight smell. “Sure.” He follows Clark. Neither says very much. It’s a calm silence, not charged with the usual amount of anger. Lex tries very hard to watch Clark’s back, but falls rather quickly into his old habit of watching that beautiful ass flex and contract with each step. Just as perfect now as before.  
  
Clark washes her hands and places two glasses on the counter. Showing an air of civility, she pours two glasses of lemonade and takes a sip as she watches Lex. This is something new, or maybe a return to old. Clark hasn’t been this hospitable in years.  
  
Lex watches Clark over the rim of the glass. Those green eyes focus on him and don’t go hot or cold. They just watch. “Good lemonade. It tastes just like your mother’s.” Lex comments as he puts the glass down.  
  
“I picked up a few things by watching her…” She pushes her glass aside and that pretty bow mouth folds under at the corners. “Not that I’m not enjoying your visit, but I’m assuming that there’s a reason.”  
  
“A matter of business.” He reaches into this pocket, retrieving a thick manila envelope. “This is for you.” Lex says, then slides the package over.  
  
Clark pulls the contents of the envelope out and spreads them across the countertop. “Lex--” IDs, a driver’s license, birth certificate, passport. Clark’s looks confused, probably wondering how Lex obtained the new pictures of Clark in the first place.  
  
“If you’re wondering about the pictures, you should realize why I have the cameras in the castle. These are enough to give you a new start.”  
  
“Or keep me under your thumb.” Lex’s mouth draws tight and the light in his eyes sharps in rapid fire anger. “Kidding, just kidding…I guess we have to work our way up to jokes again.”  
  
“Yes, we do. This is Clara Kent’s life. Ironic, that her name would be so similar to that of her long lost twin brother.”  
  
Clark rolls her eyes. “Sounds like something from a soap opera.”  
  
Lex shrugs. “This is your new start. Clara Myers was found the day of the first meteor shower. Before the death of her parents, she learned that she was adopted and she set off to find her biological family. Yours was the only story that seemed similar and the resemblance was uncanny. Mrs. Kent decided to adopt you so that you could have the true experience of being a Kent. Clark was about to introduce you to the world at large before he got hurt in the cave collapse. He’s in a hospital upstate for long-term care.”  
  
“This is incredible. What do I owe you?” Clark asks more seriously.  
  
“We all deserve a fresh start, and I was hoping for honesty in the future.”  
  
Clark extends her hand, which Lex takes after a moment of consideration. The grip is firm and soft, very soft ,belying Clark’s life on a farm. They shake hands. “I’ll give you as much honesty as you want if it doesn’t carry the cost of either of us getting hurt.”  
  
“That’s a start.”

* * *

  
‘Clara’ Kent turns heads everywhere she goes. It’s automatic, because 6’3 inches of statuesque raven-haired goddess is a sight that causes many to lose their breaths. She blushes naturally and so prettily, and has that same sweet demeanor as her brother. It’s so easy for her to blend in and be welcomed into the community’s arms even though Lex never has been.  
  
Lex Luthor and Clara Kent are not often seen in the same room together. When they are, their interactions are cordial and friendly. In the Talon, they make polite conversation though, Chloe and Lois visibly hover, as if they need to protect Clark’s feminine virtue. It amuses him to no end that Clark’s real pseudo-sisters have taken up the cause to preserve his chastity—not that Lex is actively seeking it. From the glances that keep turning Clara’s way, he guesses they Lex is the least of their worries in that department.  
  
He’ll catch up eventually with Clara and when he does it will be without the supervision of her protectors. In the meantime, he plans to review the newest information coming out of project Aries and spend time with his lovely wife. Clara catches his eyes as he leaves the Talon. 

The soft smile on her full lips says exactly what Lex is thinking.  
  
Soon.

* * *

  
This isn’t the first snag that they’ve hit in their marriage. It is by far the worst. The miscarriage strikes something inside of Lex that cracks and bleeds and festers with a pulsing fiery ache. He wants something. Just anything to erase the sounds of Lana’s crying as she rocks herself in the nursery. One of the few things he’s ever constructed with his hands alone.  
  
She rocks quietly, half-murmuring and singing to herself. So weak and fragile, tears spilling from her hazel eyes. She doesn’t speak to him. Doesn’t allow him to touch her. She’s shutting down on him and there’s nothing that he can do. Hearing her low cries outside the door invokes images of his mother. Images of his own spiral of madness and the imaginary baby he'd cradled in his arms.  
  
That’s why he’s here. He’s itching for a fight. He wants Clark to antagonize him. Make him so angry that the pain becomes overshadowed by his rage. If he’s lucky, there may be a hug in there. A look of sympathy and the heavy heat of arms wrapping around him. He’ll do anything, say anything, he can to get a reaction.  
  
Lex stops the Mercedes by the farmhouse and has every intention of stomping into the barn ready for a fight, when the sounds of the barn rattling and wood breaking reach his ears. He runs instead, and his eyes are drawn to the blur of activity coming from the loft.  
  
The sounds are inhuman, save for the grunt and occasional yell from Clara. She and the man that seems to be far larger than her are locked in a hand grapple. Neither is making any significant gain, just doing a stutter step back and forth. The man, if that’s what he can be called, is grey skinned and decked out in tattered clothing of red and black. The balance between them shifts as he crashes his forehead into Clara’s.  
  
The crack as their heads connect resounds throughout the barn and Lex winces as Clara goes down. The few seconds she’s dazed is enough for the man to encroach upon her. He doesn’t realize he’s yelled out for her until the man’s head snaps around and turns a feral smile on Lex. Even from the ground floor, he can tell those yellowed teeth are sharp and jagged. The man prepares to leap from the loft, when he’s grabbed from behind by Clara and hoisted in the air in what appears to be a bear hug. She pile-drives him into the floor with enough force to make the barn shake and wooden boards fall around them. There’s a noticeable hole in the floor and silence from the impromptu crater.  
  
Lex approaches slowly, jumping back as a hand springs forth. It’s long and lean. Clara.  
  
“I have you.” He says as he pulls Clara from the hole. She’s no worse for wear, but her clothes tell a different story.  
  
“Thanks.” She mutters, just a little bit winded.  
  
Lex opens his mouth to ask the profound question of ‘what the hell was that’, when a muscular hand shoots up and grabs her about the ankles. Clara turns around and falls to the ground as the man pulls her back into the crater. Her movement is so fast that Lex can barely track it as Clara launches herself up and slams her fist into the top of his head, effectively stopping him cold.  
  
She climbs out and zips from the crater to the loft and back again. In her hands is a pendant, possibly diamond shaped, that begins to glow. Suddenly, the man is engulfed in light and he vanishes into the piece of jewelry.  
  
Clara places the pendant in her pocket, and then begins to dust herself off as she turns to Lex. Their eyes meet. She’s waiting for him to ask. Now there’s no way that she can refute her difference.  
  
She crosses her arms over her chest. For someone who just took down a mountain of a man, she looks very good. The absurdity of the situation hits him. Then, the memories of Lana crying and his own unshed tears for his lost child hit him. Wave after wave of emotion flows through him, until he finds his voice and it’s pouring out of him in tremendous laughter. Clara’s face drops into a mask of seriousness and, though others would back away from him in his sudden fit of lunacy, she comes closer. Those lithe arms lie as they wrap around him. Soft in their comfort, but containing strength within that could destroy buildings.  
  
“I didn’t have any intention of you seeing Wrestlemania in my barn, but it couldn’t have been that bad?” She tries to joke.  
  
Lex looks into her face. It’s Clark’s face. Just softer, but still unearthly beautiful. His fingers stroke the smooth hot plains of her tawny cheeks. Blood-rich as evident by the depressions of his fingers against the skin.  
  
“Just tell me…Just tell me the truth.” He says.  
  
The barn is silent now. Not even the cows low in this moment. Her reply is a nod. “Everything.”  
  
Inside, the house she tells him everything or as much of everything that’s relevant. A planet destroyed, a couple desiring a child. A meeting of destiny that day on the bridge. It all becomes so much more complicated after they meet. Powers beyond imagining.  
  
The stuff of legends. All the battles that have come, and have yet to come, can still be weathered if they work together. If only he had known…He can’t think of a time when it would have been feasible. Now, though, he’s independent of his father, and it’s only a matter of time before Lionel is crushed beneath his heel. He knows for a fact that Clara has been avoiding Lionel like the plague and the elder Luthor is very displeased.  
  
The time is now.  
  
They’re adults.  
  
Independent.  
  
Free.  
  
Then, Clara asks what brought him to the farm in the first place. That’s when it all comes flooding back. This will never work. He’s waited too long. There’s the vision of the two of them standing side by side, ready to protect the earth. Clara launches forward and flies, but he can’t, because there’s a hand clamped around his wrist. It’s Lana with tears streaming from her eyes, looking like the world’s most long suffering martyr.  
  
It stops. The future is no longer this shining vision and he has to confess why he came. Lex doesn’t mention wanting to have Clark’s anger directed at him. He simply needed to speak to someone who wouldn’t automatically give him sympathy and shallow words.  
  
Clara’s long thin hand wraps around Lex’s. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Her words are breaking him apart. His cheeks are turning red beneath her gaze and it’s like the early days of their association when every look affects him nearly to the point of embarrassment. He overcomes the temptation to wrap his fingers around hers.  
  
Lex clears his throat and rises from the counter. “I think I should be going now.”  
  
Clara pulls her hand back and she has to know that it’s a ploy. He’s just too close. “I’ll see you out. Tell Lana…” He silences her with a look, having no desire to hear her say Lana’s name. “Tell her, I’m sorry and I'll see her soon.”  
  
This is one of those things that Clara’s extraordinary gifts can’t fix. “I’ll let her know.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and Clara is just a foot away. Like her masculine form, she doesn’t wear perfume. The heady scent that reaches his nose is a smell of the earth, apples, sunshine, and sweat.  
  
He just needs something. It’s her. “Don’t worry about your secret. I promise you on my life--”  
  
“I know, Lex.”  
  
It’s too much. It’s as though he’s the one gifted with speed. He launches his arms about her neck and waist and draws her into a kiss. An inhale of breath tickles the skin of his upper lip. Her lips are just as pliant and soft as he’s dreamed. The only problem is that she's not kissing back.  
  
“Chloe’s on her way over.” Clara draws back and caresses Lex’s face before opening the door.  
  
Along the main road, he can see a distant pair of headlights. It’s dusk, meaning he’s stayed much longer than he’d desired. Clara telling him to go is very telling. He’ll think about it later.  
  
“I--” Lex begins.  
  
“I know.” She watches his face and he forces himself to not touch her. Prove that she’s real. “I’m sorry.”  
  
That’s loaded. “I am too.”  
  
He returns to his car, and it's more like a beginning than an ending. 

* * *

  
Lex hates Oliver Queen. Beyond reason. Beyond measure.  
  
Hates the way his smile seems to grow beyond the confines of his face when Clara smiles at him in return. Hates the way he plays cool with Lois, only to sidle up to Clara to talk about business. What business Clara has with Oliver Queen, Lex can only imagine is still remaining from the days of Clark. That purely platonic bond, as fragile as it had been then, is even more tenuous now.  
  
Clara brings out the best and worst in a man. It’s not the same as any beautiful woman. No, Lex suspects Oliver can feel it too. The curiosity burns through his veins.  
  
Tonight, Senator Martha Kent is in Metropolis attending the Metropolis Children’s Hospital Fundraiser. Her son isn’t by her side, as word has spread of his unfortunate accident that has left him in a critical state. She is accompanied by her adopted son’s long lost twin sister.  
  
Lex watches her from across the room. The senator is decked out in an elegant modern cut dress; one that enhances and accentuates the finer features of a woman of her mature stature. Her newly adopted daughter, dressed in a classic Grecian style, garners a lot of attention over the course of the evening. It accentuates every curve and transforms those already too long legs into a highway of skin that leads to the riches of a goddess.  
  
Lex tries very hard. Lana is on his arm tonight. Looking as lovely as ever, he smiles at her and kisses her temple. That passionate flame that once burned in his belly is cooling dramatically. He blames himself. Blames Clark. Not Clara though, she’s a beacon of light here in the fog that his life has become. Like a vengeful spirit, he has flashbacks every so often when his mind is completely occupied. He thinks of the nursery and the movers packing and restoring the room to its bare state rather than as a monument to the child that never was.  
  
He saw Clara once before tonight. She came by to drop off flowers and a basket full of farm fresh fruits for Lana. Clara and Lana talk, and he knows for sure there’s no mention of the kiss. As Lex watches Oliver cut across the dance floor to reach Clara, he really wishes she had.  
  
At an early age, Lionel teaches him how to read people. He’s a master at it. That’s how he always knows, even in Clark’s sincerest moments that he’s hiding something. It’s apparent to him that Oliver knows about Clark’s change, but hasn’t seen the results for himself. It’s the way Oliver thinks he’s being subtle in his perusal of Clark’s new form. Clara is very much aware of how his eyes trail across the bottom of the dress and up the flat expanse of trim and toned belly and up to the valley of her perfect cleavage. She can probably feel every set of eyes on her.  
  
Lois is busy talking, as if that’s something new, probably making connections and interviewing prominent people without them knowing it’s an actual interview. His father is standing with Senator Kent. He looks very determined and disappointed. Is the Senator’s move to put space between them finally wearing Lionel thin or is it Clara’s distance that is making the old man twitchy? Martha is still cool, probably more so after having her feet wet for a while in politics. Whatever she says lets him know that things are as they should be. Lionel takes a sip of champagne and swallows bitterly.  
  
Lex makes a sound in his throat when Oliver moves to straighten Clara’s necklace. Her raven curls flow up like a drawn curtain as he steps behind her to twist the thin chain. Their eyes catch. For a second, he leans too close, probably taking a whiff of her scent-soft and airy, he’s close enough to lay a kiss on the strong line of her neck.  
  
Clara draws back suddenly, brow furrowing and eyes darkening at her friend. Lex grins.  
  
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lex turns his attention to Lana, who is still watching the pair talk animatedly without anymore overtures from Oliver.  
  
He tries to think of a diplomatic answer. The last thing he needs is for Lana to grow jealous after everything. “She is, if she’s your sort and if you don’t know who she was beforehand.”  
  
Lana half chuckles and releases Lex’s arm. She reaches for a flute of champagne as a waiter passes by them. “If she’s your type? Clara is every man’s type, just like Clark was everyone’s type.”  
  
He wonders if that statement includes him in the latter category as well. She steps into his line of sight. Her hazel eyes boring him into his, so sweet and calm, slightly tight in the corners unlike the razor sharp edge of her smile. “Look, but don’t touch.”  
  
“Giving me orders now? Maybe you should be careful about that.”  
  
“No, Lex. You should be careful.” Lana kisses him sweetly. People might think there’s trouble in our marriage.”  
  
“We couldn’t have that.” Clara’s eyes locked with his. His marriage isn’t unstable. Lex strokes Lana’s face, her neck, and the ends of her flowing hair.  
  
Lana is so beautiful and perfect for any man. She deserves love and security. She trusts him, but he’s going to break her heart. Very soon, he is going to give up to Cassandra’s vision. He’s going to destroy her.  
  
Their marriage is over. 

* * *

  
They play games for the next two weeks; Lana tempts him in every way a man can be tempted. He finally gives in when she nearly closes his computer on his fingers. That’s how they end up on the wall. The door to the office is shut, but the sounds of their voices will undoubtedly carry.  
  
Lex presses her into the wall, her legs cradle his hips and connect at the ankles behind his back. He braces against the wall with one hand while rubbing her clit with the other. She hisses loudly in his ear, a sound that was so delicious and wonderful once. It leaves him hollow now.  
  
His hips piston forward, the pace almost brutal, but she takes it, savors, and thrust back against him. This is angry sex at its finest. He feels himself drawing close, stomach tightening, heat, and weight settling between his legs. Any second, he’ll explode. Good thing he takes precautions.  
  
Lana clenches around him. So freaking tight. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, probably drawing blood and she’s riding the wave of her orgasm. He tenses and gives himself over to filling the condom with all his being. Mouth open and head thrown back in ecstasy, he yells  
  
“Clara.”  
  
She goes rigid, but her thighs still cling to him and squeeze him between him with bruising force.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“You heard me.” He says after he’s tucked himself back into his pants.  
  
“Why would you say something like that? Are you trying to hurt me?”  
  
“No, I’m just letting you know where we stand.”  
  
“So, what does that mean? We’re done. You’ve decided you want to go after something new and all those promises, all your sweet endearments are just hollow now?”  
  
“They’re not hollow, not for the person they were actually intended for.  
  
Lana shakes her head bitterly, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I can’t even bring myself to hate her right now, but I pity you. She doesn’t want you, Lex.”  
  
“I have everything, Lana. Everything.”  
  
“Is that what you told yourself when you were waiting for Clark’s secrets?” Her malice is beautifully malicious. “—Because, I have to tell you that you’ll be waiting until hell freezes over.” She laughs bitterly.  
  
Lex kisses her suddenly, darting in for her face and back out again. “I guess you shouldn’t forget your ice skates when you go.”  
  
Her eyes grow wide with shock. In this moment, he can see what heartbreak looks like and it’s freaking terrifying. He can see himself in her eyes, and there’s breaking a thousand times over, like a mirror being shattered ad infinitum. She slaps him then, clean and hard across the face. “I hope you get nothing…I hope Clark comes back and laughs at you for being so pathetic.”  
  
His cheek stings from the blow. Lex runs his tongue over his lip and feels nothing. “That wouldn’t matter.”  
  
There is a lot of door slamming in the days that follow.

* * *

  
She’s silent throughout the exploration of the Level 33.1. As expected, she cringes and pales, when he describes the various levels and finally reaches the viewing room for Project Aries. After watching her face the entire time, he wishes he could read her mind; hear her anguished thoughts to accompany the visuals. Just one more way he to be inside her, despite everything.  
  
Clara’s head tilts ever so subtly and she blanches even more. Lex is pretty sure she can see them, all the people that they’re trying to help through closely observed study. It’s unnecessary to make the point that many of these people have volunteered themselves or are beyond the capacity of Belle Reve.  
  
Those green eyes darken when he turns on the light and she can see in full the magnitude of Project Aries. Row after row of hibernating soldiers is revealed. Clara’s mouth drops open into a silent vacant void. The sight before her should be followed by the revelation of how serious Lex is about protecting what’s his, even the Earth.  
  
Clara stops short of the glass, her hand hovering just inches away from the surface as if she’s afraid to be sucked into the Project. “She was right…You did take him.”  
  
“Let’s go.” He'd say that Clara’s silence exceeds five minutes.  
  
They take the limo back to the Castle, where he escorts Clara into his office. He keeps space between them, though he itches to know what she’s thinking.  
  
Lex pours himself a few fingers of Scotch and leans against the bar as she finally settles onto the sofa. Her long limbs fold under her compactly, making her appear graceful, rather than awkward; her eyes are set on the carpet and her breathing is slow and almost soundless. It isn't the sound of Clark’s anger boiling for eruption. Maybe her anger burns cold. The prospect makes him excited.  
  
“A penny for your thoughts?”  
  
“This is completely…”  
  
There’s a masochistic streak within him a mile wide chanting ‘say it, say it’. Fulfill his dark wish that she isn’t different from Clark after all, and is simply the same commodity in a different package and just as willing to antagonize him. He wants the power struggle. He wants the epic battle. That way her acquiescence, like Clark’s, will be all the sweeter. At the very least, if there’s no love, he’ll have the knowledge that no one will be able to kindle the same passion within her.  
  
“This is completely…”  
  
‘Say it,’ he wills. Crazy. Dismiss him and engage him in the same breath, he waits expectantly.  
  
“Unethical.” Then, she’s standing in front of him looking in his eyes.  
  
Lex laughs. Loud and raucous, it’s a genuine eruption from his soul. She watches with brow crumpled in question, readying herself to knock him out if need be. If he’s lost his mind suddenly—finally snapped.  
  
Everything he wants or he thinks he wants with Lana is entirely predicated on making Clark suffer for not being honest. He’ll have it all with Clara. Everything. He smiles suddenly, so brightly and gently grabs hr by the arms, “We all do things that other consider beyond reason, but I have to protect us. Somebody has to…”  
  
His arms wrap around her and his mouth comes down on hers, crashing and hard. She’s stiff in his arms, but gradually relaxes against his body. He eagerly sucks on her full lips, then nibbles on the soft and supple slops of her cheeks and chin. She tastes like the sun and apples, a delicate sweet taste that isn’t quite a combination of either, though wholly intoxicating.  
  
Lex’s hands are manic as they move from undoing the band that holds her hair up and off her shoulders to the long curve of her back and down to drape around her hips. Pressing against her, he lets his desire be evident against her thigh.  
  
Though he loathes to break apart, they simply can’t do this in his office. “Bedroom.” The world tilts for a second and then shifts beneath his feet, leaving his equilibrium off balance. There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, the curtains are drawn, and it’s like every fantasy Lex has ever had is coming true. Clara stands in front of him with the refreshing advantage of a couple of inches in height.  
  
He tilts his head up to kiss her and finds her lips are soft and compliant. He can feel the heat of her warm hot fingers through his shirt. His fingers slide the hideous red jacket off her shoulders and make quick work of the buttons running down the front of her flannel top. Inside, there’s a t-shirt, one that he can override by simply running his fingers beneath the simple cotton. The heat of her skin seeps into his fingers, and she makes a noise inside his mouth, something between a moan and a sigh.  
  
It’s delicious.  
  
Her fingers dig into the silk fabric of his shirt and tears it to shreds. Something that he could become highly addicted to, if given the chance. He makes quick work of her belt and his, as Clara pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it to an unknown part of his bedroom.  
  
He pulls back to see her body as it stands nearly striped; golden, toned, curvaceous. It’s perfect in more ways than he can possibly describe. If Clark’s body was the living embodiment of male perfection, then Clara’s form was the universal female equivalent. He’s seen far more impressive and elaborate lingerie, but he finds her simple white bra and panties the most erotic thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe it’s the power that he knows lurks beyond the fabric or the experience.  
  
He enjoys the lean press of her body against his. Stomach to stomach. Almost completely chest to chest. As he kisses her, he undoes her bra and feels the soft heat of her freed breasts against his chest. Her nipples stand tall, proud dusky rose points, which his fingers wish to roll and his mouth wishes to suck.  
  
Fully naked, they fall into bed with his mouth quickly moving about in exploration of her available flesh. He’s going to know her—know every inch of skin, and taste her as he goes. Lex moves the trail of kisses down her stomach, the path made by the natural contours of her feminine curves and muscle. His mouth jumps the gulf of her white underwear and begins a new exploration of the long smooth planes of her thighs. Legs that go on for days, literally.  
  
Nothing will ever compare to the memory of Clara’s head thrashing about as his fingers join his mouth in exploration of her center. Without removing the white panties, he mouths her, sucking on her lips through the fabric and inhaling her juices as she became wetter under his touch. This only pales in comparison to being fully inside her. It resembles more of a near death experience than earth-shattering orgasm. Clara’s hot inside, hotter than normal and comfortably tight like a vise that's specially crafted just for him. She surges against him as he thrusts forward, her hips shifting and raising to meet every thrust. Her lush mouth opens for his exploration. Her breasts heave from excitement and the physical motion of their bodies. He's always imagined that Clark would be quite vocal in his lovemaking; Clara sighs and moans lowly, the movement of her body and the shifting expressions of her face speak for her as her words flee her just as quickly as they leave Lex.  
  
He loses count of the number of times he makes her come. The seconds leading up to and after his orgasm are blank. Lex can only remember that moment when he finally explodes, his vision goes white and he is deaf—more like rendered completely senseless. The wet heat spreading between them from where he's still buried inside of her is the only thing he can feel besides the rise and fall of her chest as she breaths.  
  
He has by no means possessed her this night. More like she’s possessed him, bewitched him, and broke him of thinking of any other woman, man, person besides her. If he were superstitious, he’d think of succubae. Clara is a deity he can reverently pay homage to in mind, body, and soul.  
Lex falls asleep with her hair fanned out across his pillow after he wraps his arms around her from behind. With this embrace, he can feel every breath, and he listens, memorizes the pattern, and syncs his to hers.  
  
Moonlight cuts across the room from the balcony, spilling over the rumpled sheets on the bed, and lighting her in shades of preternatural paleness. He watches her. Dark hair, curling naturally into vein-like tendrils, cascade over her shoulders and back, her face turned to toward the light, and even now in the dark, he can see the line of her form outlined by the drapery of the sheets. The sight stirs more want within him.  
  
Clara’s knees are drawn up to her chest and the sheets swath her body and hang open down her back. The image is committed to his memory. This is something he can always claim. Lofty. Piercing purity.  
  
“What are you doing?” he asks. In the past, catching his bed partner awake has never amounted to anything good, especially for his health.  
  
She regards him with a soft look before her expression goes far away again. “Listening.”  
  
“To what?”  
  
Clara turns toward the window. “ Nothing…Everything.” He knows that expression that she wears. It’s not resignation, but the understanding of what has to be done. She moves to settle back on the bed, by- passing his open arms, preferring to rest beside him instead. He’ll pretend not to be stung by that—just once.  
  
“I was thinking about Project Aries…”  
  
“Your thoughts?”  
  
“It makes sense in theory, but…it seems so bad. Jesus, an army of super-soldiers. It’s a little too X-Files for real life.”  
  
Lex chuckles lowly. “A necessary evil.”  
  
She’s going to fight him on this. He may lose a round or two, but there will be much more gained. She leans over and kisses his temple. “You’ll save them,” she stares into his eyes and the green is startlingly apparent. “But not this way.” Another whisper of lips over his skin.  
  
They drop off to sleep again. There’s a whisper in his dreams, low and full of quiet strength, issuing a promise. “I’ll save you too.” 

* * *

  
The next morning she’s gone. For weeks, he tries to find her and ultimately fails. She’ll be back one day. He knows they’re fighting the same war now. All that has come before has been an interminable and confusing battle. He possesses everything. He can wait.  
  
The End


End file.
